A Fortnight at Frederick's
by blackmoonrabbit
Summary: Novelization of the computer game "Five Nights at Freddy's" by Scott Cawthon. Freshly graduated from high school, Michael Schmidt seeks employment at a family pizzeria for minimum wage, unaware of the danger that lurks in the hallways at night. Rated T for mild language.
1. Prologue

A Fortnight at Frederick's

_based on "Five Nights at Freddy's" by Scott Cawthon_

Prologue

When most people think of exotic or interesting places to live, Minnesota isn't the first place to come to mind. It probably isn't even in the top one hundred, if we're being honest. I'm from a small town in a state that many people forget is part of the union, so I get the double whammy. Not much for the average guy my age to do here. I remember when our town finally got a Wal-Mart a few years back, and it was easily the event of the year for the locals.

I graduated high school this year, so my mom decided I'm old enough to start pulling my own weight around the house. There aren't many work opportunities where I live, so I've been skimming the paper for a chance at even a part-time job. Anything to help make ends meet, or at least that's what I've been telling everyone. My real plan, mind you, is to save up enough money to skip town and go make a life for myself somewhere - anywhere but here. Why? I know a dead end when I see one. Minnesota's not known for anything. So what, we've got the Mall of America? Big deal. As soon as I can fend for myself, I'm getting the hell out of Dodge and starting fresh.

My name is Michael Schmidt. I'm going to become famous, just you wait and see.

But first, I need a job.


	2. Workin' Man

Chapter 1 - Workin' Man

Saturday, November 7th, 1998

My mom got me out of bed at a time that just about any jury of my peers would have seen fit to give her the chair for - namely, literally any hour before noon on a Saturday. _Come on, lady. Cut me some slack here._ Ushering me downstairs, she thrust me toward the bathroom sink.

"Hurry up and brush your teeth so you can eat breakfast," she burbled excitedly. I turned and shot her a glare, but in my half-awake stupor it probably looked more like I was aggressively yawning in her direction.

"If I'm brushing my teeth so that I can eat breakfast, isn't that kind of like cleaning the toilet before you use it?" I muttered. She tuned me out somewhere around "if", too excited to be bothered to listen.

"I've got fantastic news for you, Mikey!" she announced in the classic _I'm-mom-and-I-know-something-you-don't-know_ sing-song tone.

I glanced back at her while going through the motions of brushing my teeth. "We won the lottery?" She huffed in mock annoyance. "Well, if you're going to be that way," she said, feigning sudden disinterest. _Oh boy._ I know this game and there's only one way to win it - by immediately admitting defeat. I apologized for my sarcasm to begin the process of coaxing whatever her "fantastic news" was out of her.

As soon as I'd gotten dressed and taken my seat at the breakfast table, she wordlessly handed me a page of the newspaper with an ad circled in bright red felt-tip marker. I snuck a glance at her as she beamed. Satisfied that this was the "fantastic news", I purposefully ignored the ad and read something completely unrelated out loud.

"Holy smokes! This IS fantastic news!"

"Isn't it just?" she said, swelling with pride and joy. I swear, she wasn't even this happy at my graduation party.

"You bet! I can't believe that Claire's Coffee Emporium's having a sale on espresso machines. Buy two, get one 10% off - now that's savings," I said. She rolled her eyes. "Very funny, smartass."

I chuckled in between a bite of my toast. "Sorry, mom. You just make it too easy." My mom snorted in reply, sitting down to her own food. "Really though, read that."

Taking a sip of my orange juice (and grimacing as it mixed with the still-fresh taste of mint toothpaste in my mouth), I skimmed the ad she'd gone through so much effort to mark out for me.

"Help wanted at... Freddy Fazbear's Pizza?" I groaned. "Isn't this that kiddie place over on the older side of town?" My mother glowered back at me. "It's a job, though, and an easy one to boot. Keep reading," she ordered.

I dutifully nodded and continued half-heartedly skimming the ad. "Family pizzeria looking for security guard to work the night shift. 12 to 6 AM?" I glared back at her incredulously. "A night shift as a security guard for a pizzeria? Who the hell hires a night watchman for a pizzeria?"

When the scowl on her face didn't dissipate, I resigned myself to finishing the ad before applying any more commentary. "Okay, alright. Monitor cameras, uh... ensure safety of equipment and animatronic characters. Not responsible for... injury or dismemberment?"

Now it was my mom's turn to roll her eyes. "It's that lawyer stuff they make everyone put on the bottom of everything now. Political correctness, I think it's called." I frowned. I was pretty sure that wasn't the term, but I wasn't about to argue. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. If I slip and fall on the job they probably don't want to pay out for it."

"Mike, it's easy work. Sure, it's only minimum wage, and I realize that a kid your age doesn't want to be working in a restaurant, but everyone starts somewhere. I was a waitress for years before I finally got the job I have now."

I bit my tongue before telling her that managing a cafeteria in a school is still basically the same thing as working in a restaurant. Swear to God, I love my mother, but some days...

Turning back to the ad, I sighed. "So, watching cameras and making sure animatronic characters - I'm guessing those are those singing puppet things they have on the stage - are kept safe. I suppose that wouldn't be too hard."

She buttered a piece of toast aimlessly for a while, formulating her response. "Mikey, I'd have killed for a job that easy when I was your age. Sitting on my ass in an air conditioned room watching cameras for six hours? They've probably got people beating their doors down for it as we speak." As if realizing what she'd just said, she suddenly snatched the newspaper page from my hands. Picking up the phone off the kitchen hook in a rush of excitement, she dialed the number printed in the ad.

"Hello? Hi, I'm calling about the help wanted ad in the paper for the night guard position. Is it still available?" Her face lit up. "It is? Oh, I think - no, not for me, for my son. Yes, he's eighteen," she lied. "Sure he can. Today at noon? Perfect, we'll see you then. Thank you so much!"

I finished my toast and dug into my eggs as she sat back down, a self-satisfied expression on her face. "My son's gonna be a workin' man," she half-sang.


	3. Animal House

Chapter 2 - Animal House

Having finished breakfast, I put on nicer clothes than I'd normally wear (well, if I'm being honest, my best pair of jeans and a pressed button-up shirt). Eyeing the weather forecast, it was a balmy 34 degrees outside, so I decided to grab my thick coat and scarf. No sense being caught out in the cold.

Tucking my wallet (yeah, it's a velcro wallet, sue me) and a packet of mint chewing gum into my pocket, I decided I was about as ready as I was going to get for a job interview. Having never interviewed for a job before but having enough of a rough idea from my friends, I decided to just prep like I would if I'd been called into a private meeting with one of my teachers - be polite and do my best to make a good first impression, but let them do the talking.

The car ride over to Fazbear's Pizza was at least comfortable - even though I lived alone with my mom, she insisted on owning one of those new minivans, and thinking on it, it was just about the only luxury she afforded herself. While they'd developed something of a "soccer mom" stigma, I really couldn't argue that they were pretty dang nice for toting stuff around, especially in trips to the hardware store or even just the mundane weekly grocery shopping.

Fazbear's was situated in a fairly large shopping complex in an older part of town. Everything about the architecture and area more or less screamed '70s - it was probably the nicer side of town when it was new, but now that it had aged a good twenty years, everything was starting to seem a bit dilapidated. This was kind of the place where most family businesses and mom-and-pop shops would come to set up, the sort of shopping center where the anchor chains would be discount department stores like Mervyn's or T.J. Maxx, rather than impressive big-box stores.

As we pulled up to Fazbear's, I couldn't help but notice that something about its positioning in the complex felt off. It was situated quite a distance from the other buildings in the parking lot. Nothing was really "nearby" - the nearest store was a good fifteen, maybe twenty parking rows away. For a kiddie pizzeria, wouldn't it make more sense to be nestled right in with shopping for the moms and dads who wanted to drop their kids off and make the most of the day?

"Kind of isolated, isn't it?" I murmured.

My mom nodded in agreement, then her eyes lit up as if she'd had a sudden epiphany. "Ooh! Maybe it's because they use the parking lot for promotions or like those bouncy castles for the kids' birthday parties."

I shrugged but didn't say anything else. For all I knew it was some obscure zoning regulation that only applied to pizzerias. Stepping out of the car, I sized the restaurant up.

The building's exterior was decorated in generous amounts of what was probably once vivid purple paint that had flaked and peeled with age. Oversized plastic decorations in the shape of pizza slices were screwed into the brick outside walls, all of which had become discolored under the sun's relentless assault. A large neon sign with mostly-lit letters mounted on the roof proudly displayed the name of the restaurant. Faded posters hung in the windows advertising pizza deals, none of which seemed particularly appealing.

Oddly enough, none of this seemed to give the slightest indication of what a "Fazbear" even was.

The parking lot was more or less empty. Maybe a dozen or so cars were parked in various spots. For a children's venue on a Saturday at noon, this wasn't a particularly encouraging sign. _Was the food that bad?_

My mom started to get out of the car with me, but I shook my head. "I think I can handle this one on my own," I said, mustering my confidence. She nodded proudly.

"That's my boy. I've got faith in you, Mike."

I smiled back at her, then checked my watch. I was about ten minutes early - punctuality would make a good first impression, I hoped.

Walking inside, the first thing that assaulted my senses was the overwhelmingly pungent smell of cheese. _Not much of a surprise, I suppose - it is a pizzeria, but still..._

Inside the entrance was a small host/hostess area that led to another set of doors, behind which I assumed was the dining hall. There was a bored-looking girl at the front counter, tall and lanky with long, stringy red hair. A plastic name tag identifying her as "Wendy" hung off her slightly-oversized polo shirt.

"Table for one?" Wendy asked sleepily as I walked in, glancing up from whatever magazine she was reading. I shook my head. "No, I'm actually just here for the interview."

Her face remained blank for a few seconds before what I said seemed to occur to her. "Oh, right. For the night guard job. You must be Mike." "Guilty as charged," I replied with a nervous chuckle.

Wendy looked me up and down for what felt like an eternity, much to my discomfort. I'm a fairly short guy - barely pushing 5'5" - and I lean a little towards overweight rather than underweight. I don't exactly look like I'd be much of a security guard of any variety (well, maybe a bad one), and I certainly have no experience in any similar position. Doubt began to flood my mind. What on Earth was I thinking, applying for a job like this?

However, before I could talk myself out of it she nodded. Brushing a few strands of her hair out of her eyes, Wendy motioned for me to follow her. I dumbly did as instructed, careful not to get smacked in the face by the swinging doors as we entered the dining room.

The first thing I noticed upon walking into the dining room was how utterly bleak the atmosphere was. For a children's pizzeria, an uneasy aura hung over the place. There were maybe a good twenty people in the entire dining room, at least half of which were part of one kid's birthday party.

The children themselves seemed to be having a good enough time - a cake was being shared amongst the birthday party participants, and presents were being passed around. The children's parents, however, seemed to share my apprehension. They kept glancing around warily as if they were eager to do their time and get out.

Looking around the dining room, I frowned. There... didn't seem to be really much of anything here. Sure, the interior was decorated in kid-friendly primary colors and plenty more of those pizza decals that I had seen outside, but since the dining hall comprised most of the pizzeria itself, there really didn't seem like much for kids to actually do. No arcade games or a play area or anything of that nature seemed to be present. Hell, even most fast food joints these days had a place for children to climb around inside.

Toward the northernmost wall was what appeared to be a stage, perhaps for use by a live band. It was covered with curtains and roped off to help prevent unauthorized access by guests. Black-and-white checkerboard tile comprised most of the flooring and much of the trim. Glancing at the walls of the dining hall, I noticed many posters on display in frames. However, the room was too dimly lit and I was moving too quickly to keep up with the hostess to really notice what they were advertising.

Suddenly, the sound of chimes played through the overhead speakers in the dining room. Mere seconds later, my watch beeped, indicating the alarm I had set for 12 PM as a relatively meaningless reminder of my interview appointment. Truth be told, I'd hoped I would already be in the interview, and I reasoned if my alarm went off in the process, it would just further demonstrate my attentiveness to time. The newspaper advertisement had made it unmistakably clear what the job's hours would be, which I assumed was of particular importance to the restaurant's management.

The speaker system began to play what sounded like a drum roll as a large spotlight flicked on, aimed towards the center of the curtained stage. The children began cheering as an obviously pre-recorded male voice enthusiastically accompanied the drum roll. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! Please give a warm welcome to the Faz-tastic Fazbear Trio!"

_Fazbear Trio?_ I thought as I stopped in place to see this new display. This, I had to see. Wendy must have noticed me stop in my tracks as she too stood off to the side, watching me observe the stage.

The curtains flung open, revealing a set of utterly enormous mascot costumes, much like the kind you'd see at a theme park. Well, maybe an extremely low-budget theme park. These things were gobsmackingly huge for what I had assumed (erroneously) were simple animatronic puppets - the shortest one had to be at least seven feet tall. I visibly reeled - and though I didn't notice, I'd like to imagine most of the adults in the room did the same. Why were they so damn big?

On the furthest left of the "Fazbear Trio" was what appeared to be a humanoid purple bear, but with ears like a rabbit's. _Could that be "Fazbear"?_ I wondered.

The creature had a particularly dopey expression plastered on its synthetic face, though this appeared to be accentuated by the half-lidded stare and the disturbing lack of eyebrows. This odd rab-bear was holding a toy plastic guitar, the sort of item that was clearly a nonfunctional prop. Mounted upon its neck was a gaudy red bow tie covered in sequins and glitter, which served as its only piece of apparel. The bear-bunny's body looked to be made out of - no, rather, covered with - grimy, moth-eaten fake fur in a disgusting shade of purple. _What IS it with this place and purple?_

Turning my direction to the other members of this curious robotic band, I quickly realized who "Fazbear" had to be. The middle member of the trio appeared to be the "front man" of sorts, as it was easily the largest of the three animatronic figures and had most of the focus naturally directed on itself due to its central positioning on the stage.

This particular character was definitely intended to be a bear unlike the strange hybrid on the left-hand side. "Fazbear" was a more natural-looking brown in contrast to the sickly purple of the leftmost character. Its face was frozen in what appeared to be a perpetual sneer, an eerily smug expression which I surmise was intended to be a "coy" or confident look by its designer. _What a way to miss the mark, pal._

The bear was adorned with an ill-fitting small plastic top hat perched awkwardly on top of its head and a large bow tie similar to its purple companion, though it was black to match its top hat. _Some kind of magician-and-rabbit themed stage act? _I silently mused. It didn't seem to possess an instrument of any sort, but rather a cheap-looking toy microphone to indicate it was the "lead singer".

To the right of the bear-like rabbit and bear-like bear was a thankfully non-bear character, though aesthetically it was no real improvement over its bandmates. The shortest member visible (for whatever little that was worth as it still towered over everyone else in the room), this mascot appeared to be based off of a cartoony baby duck.

A dingy yellow in color, the duck featured three or four thick furry feathers protruding from the top of its mascot head. It was adorned with a cartoonish vinyl bib with the words "Let's Eat!" plastered across it. The bib was noticeably spattered with small splotches of color which I assumed were intended to be confetti.

Something unnerving I noticed was that this duck possessed an unsettlingly large set of human-like teeth mounted in its beak. I frowned as I examined them, trying to remember if I'd ever seen a picture of a duck with teeth. I supposed they had to have at least some kind of teeth to chew their food, right? But what did ducks eat? Bread? Fish? Other birds? Hell if I knew.

Common to the three animatronic figures were eerie black rings around their eyes. Between the dim lighting of the restaurant and the generally poor visible quality of the figures on-stage, it looked as if they were all wearing eyeshadow. I imagined them starting their show off with smoke machines and tearing into death metal while the kids sang along, and I couldn't help but chuckle aloud at the thought.

"Are you ready for Freddy?" the hyper-enthusiastic pre-recorded voice overhead continued. The children seated at the tables cheered with somehow even more enthusiasm than before as their ursine entertainer took a stiff, clumsy half-bow.

"Howdy, boys and girls!" the bear began by way of greeting. I instinctively flinched as his mechanical mouth flapped up and down. Even from my vantage point towards the back of the dining room, I could hear the mechanical components that allowed his joints to move.

"Before we begin our first song, we'd like to introduce ourselves to y'all!" Freddy had a deep, cartoonishly stereotypical southern drawl, not unlike that rooster guy from those old Bugs Bunny cartoons. I'd never been too far outside of Minnesota, but even I had to wonder if folks from the "deep south" truly spoke that way in real life. Of course, whether his accent was authentic or not, the voice itself certainly wasn't - there was a clear mechanical "ring" to it, sort of like a robotic computerized voice you might hear in a television show or movie.

His eyes clicked back and forth and his jaw continued to flap awkwardly as he spoke and gesticulated. Not a single action seemed realistic or life-like, but again, only the adults in the room seemed off-put by the bear's robotic mannerisms. The kids were gobbling this crap up almost as fast as the birthday cake and pizza in front of them.

"Now here to my right is Bonnie the Bunny, our gifted guitarist!" On cue, the purple monstrosity "played" a "guitar solo" - in reality, it just waved its hand up and down jerkily in front of the guitar while an extremely '80s guitar riff played through the speakers on stage.

I nodded to myself, pleased with my deductive skills. So Bonnie was supposed to be a rabbit after all. Tilting my head slightly, I noticed that Bonnie strongly resembled Fazbear, which I doubted was intentional - the rabbit must have been manufactured using a large number of the same parts the bear was made out of. Only the bare (bear?) minimum necessary changes to the design were made, just enough to convey the likeness of a rabbit.

Comparing the two to each other, I realized that apart from the color of their fake fur, Fazbear and Bonnie could be literally the same character - right down to the fact they both were wearing bow ties. Most likely this was to keep costs to a minimum, but as a result the entire presentation just seemed half-assed. I couldn't have been the only one confused as to what it was supposed to be, right?

_So the rabbit's name is Bonnie,_ I thought to myself. _She'll probably have some equally stereotypical personality - like a valley girl or something._ Thus it was to my great surprise when it was Bonnie's turn to speak after the labored guitar solo. "Well good evenin' to alla y'all fine folks out in the audience!" an obnoxiously high-pitched - but very decidedly male - voice blasted through the rabbit's internal voice box.

I turned to see the hostess behind me chuckling softly to herself as she watched my befuddled expression. "Confusing, huh," she whispered to me. I shrugged. _I'll take Mixed Signals for $500, Alex._

"And over here, this cute little cupcake can only be the one and only Chica the Chicken," Fazbear continued. My frown turned into a full-on scowl. A chicken? Why the hell was it yellow, then? _Just _a_dmit that you guys had originally made it a duck and couldn't think of a clever name for it!_

Chica introduced herself as well. Her voice was akin to an adult woman trying to sound like a cutesy little girl, though thankfully she didn't resort to full-on baby talk. "My name is Chica and I like pizza! Chica loves pizza! Let's eat!" she announced in a sing-song tone, bobbing from side to side.

"And of course, my name is Freddy Fazbear," the bear continued, re-taking control of the "show". "But my friends just call me Freddy," he announced, winking one of his mechanical eyes. "Now as I understand, we have us a birthday party today, so why don't we all sing a great big Happy Birthday to our special guest, Maribel?"

Deciding I'd seen more or less enough of this - as well as the fact that I was coming dangerously close to being late for my interview - I started moving to follow Wendy again as Fazbear and his friends had begun singing.

Following her down the hallway to the office, I suddenly paused in my tracks. _Wait, Maribel? That's a pretty uncommon name... did they really have that as part of the recording?_ Turning back to look at the stage, I noticed that even though Fazbear's band was in the middle of playing their pre-recorded song, Fazbear and Bonnie specifically were watching me from the stage. No, that couldn't be right - they just had to be turned in my direction at the time to sing to the little girl who was having her birthday party. She wasn't exactly between me and them, though. Her party's table was closer to the middle of the room and they were clearly looking to their left.

"You coming, Mike?" Wendy asked from in front of me, noticing that I'd gotten lost in my train of thought. Turning back to look at her, I grinned nervously. "Sorry, sorry, I was just distracted by something."

We continued walking the rest of the distance to a room labeled simply as "Fazbear Management". The "sign" on the door was actually just a printout on a piece of regular computer paper, held on with a few pieces of scotch tape. Wendy knocked twice then nodded to me. "Well then, good luck," she said before leaving the way we came in. Steeling my nerves, I put on my best smile and opened the door.


	4. Put Your Best Foot Backward

Chapter 3 - Put Your Best Foot Backward

The manager's office was fairly small and cramped. File cabinets lined the walls and an old computer was plugged in at a desk which took up the majority of the room. Posters and old newsprint ads featuring Fazbear and his gang hung in picture frames above the file cabinets. Oddly enough, there were no visible windows in the room. It almost felt more like a closet that had been converted into an office.

Behind the frankly oversized desk sat a wiry older man. I guessed from the wrinkles in his face and severely receding hairline that he was pushing into his sixties, but he had a youthful gleam in his eyes. He glanced up from his paperwork and returned my smile. "Hi, you must be Mike," he said, getting up halfway out of his chair to shake my hand. "Yes sir. Thanks for agreeing to see me today," I replied as he motioned for me to take a seat in front of the desk.

"My name's David Clark, I think I spoke to your mother this morning on the telephone," the manager began. I nodded quickly. "That's correct, Mr. Clark. She saw your ad in the newspaper and called for me."

Clark chuckled. "Please, just call me Dave. Mike, I just have a few quick questions for you and then we can get the paperwork signed. Have you ever been convicted of a felony?" I blinked, taken aback by the sudden frankness of his question. _Was this how most job interviews started?_ "Uh, no sir. Never so much as a speeding ticket." This much was entirely true - I'd had my provisional license for about six months and hadn't exactly had a reason to go hot-rodding in my mom's van.

Clark nodded to himself, jotting on a piece of paper in front of him. "No drugs or alcohol?" I shook my head. "And you're eighteen?"

I swallowed nervously. "Err..." He looked up from his paper. "Close enough to eighteen for me to put it down on the paperwork?"

"I'm closer to eighteen than I am to fifteen," I offered sheepishly. Clark smirked. "Just so we're clear, you're eighteen, Mike." "That's fine by me if you're alright with it, sir," I replied. He rubbed his chin, seemingly mulling it over. "I don't see how I have much choice, seeing as how you're the only applicant we've had. Then again, the ad hasn't been running all that long this time..."

He pulled a contract out from a stack of papers on the desk and handed it over to me. "This'll make it official. Just sign here and here, and you're all set to start tomorrow night." As I took the pen I snuck a look at his face. Clark seemed almost sad as I jotted my name down on the two designated lines. Hoping to lighten the mood, I cracked a joke as I handed him back the paperwork. "I'm not signing over my organs or anything here, am I?" He laughed awkwardly. "No, Mike, this isn't _Soylent Green_."

Clark placed the paperwork into a folder in one of the dozen or so filing cabinets fortifying his office before locking it shut. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll be working." Getting up from my seat, I stood outside and waited for him to squeeze through the gap between his desk and a bookshelf full of paraphernalia.

Stepping out into the hall, he led me down the hallway to a small room in the back of the restaurant. "This is your personal office," he said with playful grandeur.

Peering inside, the first thing I noticed was it was actually even smaller than his own office, though I suppose that wasn't much of a surprise. A desk occupied the front wall, covered in small black-and-white television monitors stacked haphazardly on top of one another. They were tangled up in a rat's nest of wiring and covered with cobwebs, indicating they'd been unused in some time. Wadded up balls of tinfoil and empty drink cups littered the desk. Occupying the front wall were a number of crayon drawings - most likely gifts from the children that visited the pizzeria - as well as a poster of Fazbear and his cohorts with "Celebrate!" emblazoned across the top in bright balloon letters.

A mid-sized desk fan spun back and forth providing much-needed air circulation. Even though it was November, between the restaurant's heater as well as our general proximity to the kitchen the room was surprisingly warm and stuffy, most likely due to the poor ventilation.

Positioned behind the desk was a nice, comfortable-looking office chair. I grinned in anticipation - it sure beat the crummy folding chair in Clark's office that I'd sat in. Heck, it even looked nicer than the chairs the patrons of the restaurant were seated in out in the dining hall. I could see myself kicking my feet up on that desk and keeping watch over the restaurant from behind closed eyelids. My mom was right, this was a cake job.

Clark rummaged around in one of the desk's two drawers and withdrew a large piece of electronic equipment I'd never seen before. "This here's your secret weapon," he said with a twinge of pride in his voice. Handing it over to me, I carefully accepted it.

The gadget in question appeared to be like a screen from a notebook computer, but it had no visible keyboard. "This is a state-of-the-art device we had imported directly from a company in Japan," Clark explained. "They call it a tablet computer." I hefted it - it was surprisingly lightweight, easy enough to hold in one hand. Much lighter than our own home computer which was admittedly a couple of years behind the curve. This thing was small enough you could probably take it on a car or plane trip if you had some way to power it.

"It uses a touch screen system - that's why there isn't a keyboard attached. It has a little stand on the back so you can put it on the desk and just flip it up and down as often as you like. Here, turn it on," Clark ordered. I fumbled around looking for the power switch before finding it shortly. A video feed flickered across the display showing the Fazbear Band singing on-stage. Their song crackled through the tiny speaker on the side, some catchy number about kids just wanting to have fun that sounded vaguely like a Cyndi Lauper parody. A digital overlay of what I presumed was the restaurant was displayed in the lower right hand corner of the tablet, and on the other side in the far left was what appeared to be a label marked "Power: 100%".

"Is this how much power this computer has?" I asked, gesturing to it. Clark shook his head. "Not exactly. That's actually your power indicator for the entire restaurant. At night after the restaurant closes, the store switches to a backup generator which keeps the coolers in the kitchen and a few other necessities running. It's important to not let it run out, so please be mindful of the power if you get up to turn lights on - we can't afford to let our food supplies spoil should power to the coolers run out." "I understand," I replied. _Sort of. This place has to use a backup generator every night?_

Clark showed me how to change camera views with the tablet. Most of the rooms in the restaurant had at least one camera in them though the dining hall had two, one for the show stage where the animatronic characters performed, and one overseeing the general dining hall where most of the guests were eating and observing the show. Oddly enough, the camera in the kitchen appeared to be defective. Clark explained that it had been damaged recently as a prank by an irate employee and the restaurant hadn't yet gotten around to fixing it. Fortunately, the sound still appeared to be operational, so a careful ear would help ensure no trespassers entered through that room.

Satisfied that I was familiar with the system, I returned the tablet to his hands. He carefully slid it back into the drawer of the desk before turning back to me. "So just as a refresher, your shift begins at twelve sharp every night and ends at six on the dot. The prep cooks and morning staff come in at that time to begin getting the restaurant in order before we open for business at nine, so they'll relieve you of your shift at that point." This much I'd already gathered from the ad. It'd take a little adjusting of my sleep schedule, but I figured I could make it work easily enough.

"Regarding your pay... well, it's minimum wage, but there are a few freebies we can offer you, at least." My ears perked up at this news. I hadn't been expecting much beyond the admittedly small paycheck - four dollars an hour wasn't even minimum wage since it had recently been adjusted to $5.15 per hour, but then again I had to assume that taxes and probably other 'expenses' were being deducted from my pay. I kicked myself mentally for not reading the contract more diligently.

"As an employee, you get a 25% employee discount on all menu items if you choose to stop in during normal operating hours. And when you're here on your shift, there's a soda fountain out in the dining hall. You're entitled as a staff member to a soft drink and as many free refills as you'd like." Inwardly I felt a little disappointed. I was hoping for at least free food or something to that end, but free soft drinks were reasonable, I supposed.

There was an awkward pause in the conversation where we both seemed to run out of things to say. "Any other questions?" Clark asked, rocking back and forth awkwardly on his heels. The job seemed easy enough. Clock in, watch cameras, sip soda, try not to be bored completely out of my mind, clock out. Rinse and repeat five times a week for easy money. What else did I need to know? "No sir. I guess I'll see you tomorrow night, then?" Clark shook his head. "Ah, well, not myself per se - I usually leave at six each day - but the cleaners will let you in."

"Alright then! Well, I suppose I'll go give my mom the good news, Mr. Clar- err, Mr. Dave," I said with a cheerful smile. I extended my hand and he gave me a firm handshake. "Sounds good, Mike! Welcome to the Fazbear family."


	5. Opening Night

Chapter 4 - Opening Night

Sunday, November 8th, 1998 (Night 1)

I rubbed my bleary eyes, trying to focus on the digital clock on my nightstand. 8:45 PM. _Good enough._

Resetting my sleep schedule had actually been easier than I'd suspected it would be. After finishing up my "orientation" with Clark (such as it was), my mom and I celebrated my hiring with Chinese takeout and a trip to Blockbuster. She had eventually drifted off to bed a little after midnight, so I decided to enjoy my "last night of freedom" by staying up and playing video games. Powered by enough energy drinks to prop up a corpse, I busted out my Super Nintendo. _Super Metroid_'s ending had eluded me long enough and I aimed to see it through.

Satisfied that the galaxy was finally at peace after I vanquished the Mother Brain sometime around 10 in the morning, I busied myself with light chores trying to stay awake as long as possible before finally collapsing close to noon.

I crawled out of bed, dragging myself to the bathroom. My mom cheerfully greeted me and I'm sure I mumbled something vaguely resembling a reply before loading myself into the shower. I took my time, relishing the warm water. Minnesota winters aren't what I'd call pleasant and I aimed to get as much mileage out of the water heater as I could before I had to bundle up to brave the cold. At least it wouldn't be snowing, and for that I really couldn't have been more grateful.

After my shower I got dressed and headed out into the living room. My mom had made me something of a dinner/breakfast - steak and eggs, my absolute undisputed favorite. Washing the meal down with generous helpings of ginger ale, I was now 100% awake and ready to face the challenges of the night.

I loaded up my backpack with everything I figured I'd need on the job - a notebook, a few pencils, my Walkman and earphones, a comic book, and a nutritious lunch that I'd carefully prepared (well, two candy bars and one of those jumbo bags of Cheetos, both hastily procured from the convenience store around the corner). Deciding that I was about as prepped as I could get, I checked my watch. It was already past eleven and there was pretty much nothing else to do. Time to get going - better to be early than late.

My mom offered to drive me to the restaurant for my first night, but I knew she'd just have to turn around and come get me in the morning when my shift ended. I didn't want to inconvenience her more than I already had especially now that we were on opposite schedules, so I wished her a good night and reassured her multiple times that I'd be just fine before finally heading out onto the road.

Fortunately, due to the fact that we didn't live in a huge town and the hour was quite late, there weren't many other drivers out. The trip to Fazbear's was more or less a breeze and before I knew it I found myself knocking at the front door of the pizzeria some time around 11:30.

After a few seconds, an older man I assumed to be one of the cleaners came and let me in. His general demeanor was rather dour, and I noticed he was dressed oddly for a night janitor - he almost looked like someone who should be dealing with hazardous or radioactive materials if his long plastic coveralls and thick rubber gloves were much to go by. His face was fairly obscured by a respirator. I supposed that wasn't really all that unusual, especially if he had to use industrial strength cleaners to clean the ovens and other kitchen equipment.

"Hello, I'm Mike Schmidt, the new night watchman," I said by way of introduction. He ignored this and ushered me inside. "Don't go backstage, I'm still cleaning the floor," he barked as I scuffed my feet on the mat in the entrance. I blinked a couple of times. "Backstage?" The janitor rolled his eyes at me. "Where all the damn heads are," he snapped before disappearing into the depths of the restaurant to resume his task.

I scratched my chin, attempting to parse his statement. _Heads?_ What the hell was this guy talking about?

Closing the front door behind myself, I decided to put the grumpy janitor out of my mind. It was time to take a good look around, get the lay of the land I'd be watching. The restaurant was much more foreboding at night with nobody inside. I walked through the dining room and noticed that all of the animatronics were out on the show stage, the curtain normally obscuring them left hanging open. The Faz-tabulous Fazband or whatever they were called stared blankly ahead, looking for all the world like tall, cartoony statues.

Moseying up to them with my hands in my pockets, I looked them over closely, studying their matted fake fur and all the little signs of wear and tear they'd accumulated in their years of service. Realizing I would probably look like I was up to something on the security footage, I chuckled nervously as I backed a few steps away. "Hello," I said aloud to the mascots. They didn't reply or move, of course, so I awkwardly continued. "I, uh... My name's Mike. I'll be the new night watchman here."

After a few minutes of gawking at the motionless characters, I shook my head. _What the hell am I doing?_ Turning around, I left the stage and noticed for the first time that there was another staging area in the dining room. "Hello, what do we have here?" I muttered curiously. Observing the smaller stage, I noticed it was on a large circular platform, covered with a similar wraparound curtain as the main stage. This area was cordoned off with a small metal sign that read "Sorry! Out of order".

I walked around the circular platform trying to gauge what it was used for. It wasn't as big as the main platform Fazbear's band was on, but it was still too grandiose to be completely unimportant. The sign reading "out of order" only fueled my curiosity. What would be out of order about it? Was this be some kind of game or ride?

As I reached for the curtain to see what was inside, I heard a crash behind me. Startled, I whirled around, trying to locate the source of the noise. After a moment of searching, I realized what had happened. The chicken's prop - a plastic cupcake on a small metal platter - had fallen out of its hand and rolled across the dining room floor. I exhaled, relieved that I wasn't having to deal with a break-in on my first night.

Kneeling down, I scooped up the little toy cupcake (giggling at its googly eyes the entire while). It didn't seem damaged, and it fit easily enough in a small groove on the metal platter that was clearly made for it. The tray had a handle on the bottom which appeared to snap into the chicken's hand, so I gently pushed it back into place. "Sorry about that, I probably bumped you by accident," I said. _Wait, why am I apologizing to a costume?_

Deciding I'd goofed around enough, I turned to head back to my office. As I was making my way towards the room, the cleaner emerged from somewhere in the back of the restaurant, dragging a large black trash bag behind him. "Hurry up already! Get out of here!" he snapped. I nodded and waved him off. "On my way back now, sir. Have a good night," I replied calmly, not wanting to provoke him. The janitor muttered something under his breath and continued on his way out the front of the restaurant.

As soon as he had left, I made a quick detour off in the direction of the soda machine Clark had told me about. A cup of Mello Yello and a handful of napkins for the inevitable Cheeto dust later, I finally exited the dining hall and took my seat in my office. Dropping my backpack unceremoniously on the desk, I rummaged through before I found one of my Snickers bars. Right as I finished devouring it, my watch beeped announcing the start of my shift at midnight.

"Let's get this party started," I announced to nobody in particular, drumming my fingers on my chair's armrests. As if in reply, the phone on the desk began ringing. Raising my eyebrows, I leaned over in my chair, fumbling for the handset. _Who the hell would be calling at this hour, maybe the janitor? Did I lock him out by accident?_

I picked up the phone. "Fazbear's Pizza, Mike speaking," I answered. After a few seconds, a man on the other end began speaking. "**Uhh... hello, hello?**" "Hi, yes, how can I help you?" I replied. _Great, probably some "herbal specialist" wanting late-night delivery._

"**Uhh... I wanted to record a message for you, to help you get settled in on your first night,**" the caller continued. I sat up straight in my chair. _An orientation message?_

"**Um... I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now as a matter of fact. So I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about,**" he said in a soothing, almost placating manner. "**You'll do fine, so let's just focus on getting you through your first week, okay?**"

I sighed and slumped backwards again, half-tempted to just hang up. This guy sounded nice and all, but I really didn't need a babysitter. He was probably being bullied into this whole charade of being a "caring co-worker" by Clark or someone higher up the chain to keep the lawyers happy. _Hey, call the new guy and give him a pep talk before you retire, alright? Thanks, bud!_

"**Alright, so let's see... first there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, it's kind of a legal thing, you know." **_Uh huh. Called it._

"**Um, 'Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, a magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person.'**"

I chuckled obligingly. _Hi, welcome to the company, we're not responsible for any damage done._ Come to think of it, didn't the newspaper ad say something similar? I lazily popped a Cheeto in my mouth. _These guys must really be afraid of being sued._

"**'Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon as property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced.'**" _Wait, what?_ My eyes narrowed. _Thoroughly bleached? Carpets replaced? What, like a cover-up? That's a hell of a lot of trouble to go through for an on-the-job injury._

"**Blah, blah, blah - so that might sound bad, I know. But there's really nothing to worry about. Uh, now... the animatronic characters do tend to get a bit... quirky at night. But do I blame them? No.**" I blinked a few times, then burst out laughing. _Okay, no, I see where this is going._ "**If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years, and I never got a bath? I'd probably be irritable at night too. So remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay.**"

I couldn't stop laughing at this point. It was so blatantly obvious. This was just a good old-fashioned hazing, probably because I was so young. I grinned at the phone in anticipation. Clark had to have called up one of the workers and told them to rile me up a little since I was just a kid. Probably one of the staff would put on one of the costumes and come jump at me. Maybe someone else would take pictures. I'd get scared, the mask would come off _Scooby-Doo_ style, we'd all have a few laughs and everything would go great. _Absolutely classic._

From here on out, I tried to stay quiet during the rest of the call. Every now and again I'd poke my head out the open doors on either side of my office, listening for the inevitable clumsy footsteps of my would-be prankster. "**So just be aware, the characters do tend to wander a bit. They're left in some kind of free-roaming mode at night... uh, it's something about 'their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long'. They used to be allowed to walk around during the day, too,**" Phone Man continued. I smiled. "Right," I replied. "Absolutely. Free-range servo mode, sure."

"**But then there was the... 'Bite' of '87. Yeah.**" He paused for a few seconds and my laughter renewed tenfold. _Screw it! I don't care if they hear me - this is gold!_ "The 'Bite'? Oh my god." I nearly choked trying to sip my soda. "**It's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, y'know?**" I sprayed Mello Yello all over my backpack. _Oh, that's gonna be a pain to get out later but right now I don't care. This guy's good._

"**Now concerning your safety... the only real risk to you as night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours? They... probably won't recognize you as a person. They'll... most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now, since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to... forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit.**" I smirked. "Seriously, that's your angle, man? I'll get shoved into a teddy bear suit, and you'll all laugh at me?"

The phone man continued blithely. Between his upbeat tone of voice and his general nonchalant demeanor, I don't even think he believed anything he was saying. "**Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices... especially around the facial area.**" Cringing, I frowned. "Laying it on a bit thick now, aren't you?" "**So you can imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort... and death. Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth... when they pop out the front of the mask, heh...**"

Blanching, I shoved my Cheetos aside. _Great, now you've put me off my snack. Thanks, you ass._"**Yeah, um, they don't tell you these things when you sign up. But hey, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow. Uhh, so, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night!**" There was a click on the other end as my self-proclaimed predecessor hung up. Seconds later, the line went dead.

"Well, points for atmosphere," I murmured, processing everything I'd heard. I folded up my Cheeto bag and tucked it inside my backpack. Wiping the excess dust from my fingers on a napkin, I got up from my chair and stretched my legs before plopping down to turn the security computer on. "Alright, I'll play your game. Let's see if I can find where you're hiding with this, funny guy."

Once the tablet finished starting up, I spent a good couple minutes learning exactly how the little gadget worked. I felt reasonably comfortable in operating the device, but I hadn't used it long the previous day and I wanted to make sure I knew what all of my options were. As soon as I finished loading the program that allowed me to view the camera feeds and restaurant overlay, I noticed that my power meter registered at around 60% and appeared to be dwindling at a comparatively brisk pace. I checked my watch again with a frown. How had I already used up so much power?

After a few minutes of thinking, something clicked in my head - the lights were still on in the dining hall and entrance. The cleaner hadn't come back to shut them off, probably figuring I was going to do so before I started my shift. _Damn it. I can't run out of power my first night._

I hopped out of the chair, leaving the tablet on the desk. Despite its lightweight profile, it was tethered to the desk by a charging cable, and I didn't want to damage it by attempting to unplug it. Trotting down one of the dimly-lit side halls, I found my way back to the dining hall and turned the lights off. The bear and the chicken were still mounted on the stage, gazing straight ahead just as they were before. I nodded an affirmative to myself as I ambled towards the entrance, still on full alert for someone to jump me wearing a teddy bear head.

I clicked the light off in the entrance, and then again in the dining hall before heading back to the office to continue my shift. The return trip was a little slower - without the dining room lights on, the hallways had almost no visibility to speak of. Once I was back inside, I picked the computer back up. The electricity usage icon had dropped substantially - before it was a bright red bar, now it was a cool green. Power was draining at a significantly slower rate. _Crisis averted._

I kicked my feet up and went back to browsing the cameras. The default view appeared to be the "Show Stage", which was largely just a close-up view of the animatronic characters. I picked a room at random to observe - which appeared to be some kind of broom closet. The security program's label for it was just "Supply Closet", and there appeared to be practically nothing of value or interest inside. _Why would you put a security camera inside a broom closet?_ It didn't appear to have any form of entrance apart from a single door, so I made a mental note to ignore checking this room frequently during my shift.

The next room I clicked on was the first video feed I initially saw, the main stage. Deciding that this was as good a starting point as any, I began moving clockwise around the building, figuring it would make more sense to look at the cameras in "order" rather than checking them randomly.

The next camera I took a look at was just a large overhead view of the dining hall, labeled "Dining Area" on the screen. Now that I'd turned the lights off, all I could really make out were a few of the tables and chairs. The next camera feed was labeled "Restrooms", but thankfully there wasn't a camera mounted inside the restrooms proper, just the hallway outside showing both doors. I sighed in relief, glad to know whoever installed this security system wasn't a perv.

Continuing my "rounds" such as they were, I came across the same blacked-out view of the restaurant's kitchen. I recalled Clark's words from the day prior about the damaged camera and briefly wondered if it was tied to the employee and or/employees pranking me right now. I skipped to the next point of interest which appeared to be the east side hallway outside my security office. There were two cameras showing different views of the same hallway, which I found a little odd - one seemed to be aimed at a corner, the other looking directly down the hallway itself.

It was at this point in time that I noticed the room I was in on the overlay was simply labeled "YOU". Trying to select it did nothing, which I supposed made a great deal of sense. Very little point to having a security camera in a security room, especially one of such a small size.

The next pair of feeds were similar to the ones I'd just looked at, but for the west side instead of the east. I found this a little odd - why were there four separate cameras dedicated to the surrounding areas outside the security office itself, but so far not a single camera mounted on the outside of the building or even a look at the restaurant's entrance? How was I supposed to stop a break-in?

I got up from my chair and carried the tablet outside the office as far as the charger would allow it to go. I stood in the west side hallway while keeping the view trained on the matching camera.

"The heck?" I mumbled. Something wasn't right. Why couldn't I see myself on the screen?

I walked up and down the hallway, having to set the tablet down on the floor. I watched it carefully as I moved back and forth flailing my arms. Eventually I spotted myself on the display while I was standing significantly further down the hallway - I was almost to the dining room at this point. Measuring my paces as I returned to my desk, I came to a conclusion: there were fairly significant blind spots outside of my room. What good this information did me was debatable, but I found it very curious that four cameras all trained on more or less the same area still left so much uncovered space.

Returning to the tablet, I checked my power. I was below half now much to my surprise, but the night was also moving by at a surprising pace - I'd managed to burn well over two hours between studying the camera setup, listening to the phone call, and just generally goofing off.

The next camera feed after the "West Hall" setup was the broom closet I found earlier. I couldn't help rolling my eyes at the fact that a broom closet had better camera coverage than the building's longest hallways.

Finally something of real interest came up on the screen; the curtained-off staging area out in the main dining hall I'd looked at earlier before I got interrupted by the Cupcake Crash of '98. The tablet gave this area a proper name: "Pirate Cove". That curious feeling from before washed over me anew. Investigating it via a small video screen would obviously do me all of zero good, but at least I had something to go on now. _I'll have to check this out later._

Only one camera was left that I hadn't checked. As soon as I tapped on the icon, I nearly dropped the tablet.

This final camera feed was labeled "Backstage", and I suddenly realized what the janitor was ranting about earlier. It was a small storage room similar to the closet I looked in earlier, but this one was filled with several different empty costume heads and spare parts for the animatronics. "So those are the 'heads'," I muttered.

Amongst the spare parts were a partially-assembled metal frame that looked like a skeletal robot sat unmoving on a desk in the middle of the room. To its left was a fully constructed character, one that I recognized as being similar to the purple bunny rabbit/bear hybrid from the show stage. It stood off to the side, staring straight at me with its dopey plastic eyes. I snarkily waved at it, feeling silly even as I did - after all, the thing was obviously powered off and just happened to be facing the camera.

Returning the camera to the video feed for the main stage, I closed the security application and sat back in my chair, content I was doing a good job for the time being.

_Hold on a second._

I grabbed the computer and fumbled through the applications menu, relaunching the security program. Moments later, I was greeted with the feed I'd last left it on - the main show stage.

Fazbear and his chicken friend stood stock still, unmoving on the main stage. The rabbit was nowhere to be found. Blinking a few times to make sure I was seeing things properly, I examined the backstage camera. The costume heads and spare pieces were all there as was the sad-looking robot frame sitting on the table, but the bunny wasn't in the room.

Flipping through the camera feeds, I eventually found the rabbit costume - it was standing out in the middle of the dining room, pointing its head up at the camera. I chuckled aloud. "Gotcha."

Placing the tablet back on the desk, I headed down the west hall towards the dining room. I was due for a refill on my drink anyway, so I figured I'd go razz my fellow employees while I was at it. My would-be prankster stood in the middle of the room while the bear and the chicken animatronics remained motionless on the stage. I looked directly at him and made a huge show of acting overly surprised. "Ohhh, NOOOO! Killer robot bunny's out to get me," I cried. I flicked the light switch on the wall several times, imitating the sound of thunder with my mouth. "It's a dark and stormy night! Scaaaary animatrons! OoooooooOOoooohh!"

Walking past him, I clapped him on the shoulder - which was a little bit of a stretch for me considering his shoulders were well above my line of sight. "Nice try, man. Though, the whole thing with the suits and the eyeballs? Really?" When the guy in the rabbit suit didn't reply, I shook my head and made my way over to the drink fountain in the corner. I poured the dregs of my cup out before tossing it in the trash; it had gotten "soggy" with that weird waxy taste those sorts of cheap cups tend to have after a couple of hours, so I filled up a fresh one and selected Dr. Pepper this time. "Sorry I ruined your joke. I saw the frame that costume's supposed to go on that you left on the table in the backstage. You should have done a better job hiding it, but hey, props for trying, right? I'm Mike, by the way. Nice to meet you."

After several seconds, I finally got something out of him. "Good morning, I'm Bonnie the Bunny," the man in the costume replied in a more toned-down version of the southern twang the character used in the show from the previous day. Apart from being far less exaggerated, it was an otherwise perfect imitation - even down to the voice having the same mechanical ring and the costume head performing the same mouth flaps. I assumed it was because he was using a speaker or remote control or something to aid the illusion. I set my drink down on one of the nearby party tables and clapped. "Hey, that's pretty good, you sound just like him. Oh, are you like, a puppeteer or maintenance guy? Something like that?"

"Bonnie" looked back at me wordlessly for what seemed like an eternity, maintaining eye contact. Knowing full well I wouldn't beat a staring contest against a set of fake plastic eyes, I coughed, picked my drink up and took a sip. I decided to play along. "So, uh, 'Bonnie', you want a soda or something?"

No reply. Another awkward minute or two of staring. I shook my head, this was going nowhere. "Alright, be that way. I'm heading back to my office." I glanced over my shoulder as I headed down the hallway back to my office, "Bonnie" watching me all the while.

_That was weird,_ I mused. _Some people just don't know when to give up._


End file.
